A/N: Thankee for reviews. Here's another chapter. Keep the reviews coming.

Spike dreamed. Like most dreams not a lot made sense. He was walking through a maze, the kind he remembered playing in as a child. Hedges looming high above him, guiding him in the wrong direction, keeping him from reaching his destination. He didn't know where or what his destination was, only that it was important he got there.

The sun was beating down on him and it was a nice feeling. In his dreams he could be human; in his dreams the sun loved him as much as it loved everyone else. He held his hand out to gaze at it in the suns light. There was something different about it.

He frowned, turned his hand over so his palm faced upward. He was bleeding. A puncture wound in the middle of his palm. He wondered briefly if he's acquired stigmata as some kind of bizarre, ironic punishment. Was it ironic? Spike shrugged to himself, not like it matters.

He made a fist and then released. The blood was gone. Spike shrugged again and carried onwards through the maze.

Laughter sounded close by. He was just glad it wasn't the spooky laughter of children they always had in those dire horror films Dawn had made him watch over the summer. He turned the corner to find the source of the laughter.

Spike weaved in and out of the passageways finally coming to a small clearing in the woods.

Dru and Harmony sat at a picnic bench, both dressed as Alice in Wonderland. They were eating jam sandwiches and laughing about something.

Spike raised an eyebrow, shook his head and walked around them. They were nattering about "the axe-man in the woods".

He found himself wading deeper and deeper into a forest. The foliage was dense and Spike had to push branches and leaves out of his way. He finally pushed through to the other side. Spike found himself in his old crypt.

Giles sat cross-legged on the coffin lid, he was reading from a book to his rapt audience which consisted of Willow and Andrew.

"...exactly like Picasso's blue period" He nodded, "You see, the reason that Quasimodo could never be with Esmeralda was because he was not like her. He hid in shadows, watching life pass by but remaining, essentially, detached from it. She was young, vibrant and beautiful. He was hideous, a wretch. They could never make it work"

Giles looked up and saw him "See, case in point. Spike. I believe what you're looking for is downstairs"

Spike gave him a curt nod and strolled past. As he was going down the stairs of the crypt he heard Giles' last pearl of wisdom.

"...sometimes the devil is a gentleman, others a Poddington Pea"

Spike clomped down the stairs and found himself in, well, it looked like a brothel. A somewhat high-class brothel but a brothel nevertheless. Satin pillows were thrown everywhere, heavy Chinese carpets spread across the floors, velvet drapes hanging from the walls. Light spots were circling around and around. Spike looked up and saw a disco ball, of all things. It was then that he realised he was in Xander's basement.

"Twerps done well for himself then..." Spike chuckled.

"If you're here for a good time," Dawn said coming up behind him "Then you're outta luck, hon. We're fully booked. No orifices to spare"

Spike pulled a face and took a step back. She was dressed in what could only be described as a Teletubbies costume. Dawn seemed to be dressed as Po. He wasn't sure why he knew that but he did.

He shook his head "Giles, he told me –"

"Ah, yes, Giles. Scrumptious man" Dawn sighed "Well, sorry, we're still booked. Buffy can only handle so many, you know"

His eyebrows rose "Buffy? What? Where is she?"

"She went down to the docks. Greeting the sailors, that kind of thing. They all love to get a piece of that" Dawn nodded her big Po head.

Spike was disturbed. He felt his hands itching. Spike looked at them and saw that they were both bleeding now. He wiped his palms on his duster quickly and fled back up the stairs of the basement. He didn't come back up into the crypt though. Instead he found himself in Buffy's house.

"Buffy?" Spike yelled "Buffy!"

He stalked through the living room, the kitchen, checked down the basement door which he had just come out of but all he saw was a Ricky Martin concert going on down there. He turned and started for the stairs. As he ascended the dulcet tones of Ricky followed him up.

"Shake your bon bon; shake your bon bon..."

Spike reached the landing and looked both ways. It seemed to be a lot longer than he remembered it. He chose right and walked to the first door, pushing it open. Clem sat in a paddling pool of jelly, looking introspective and jotting something down in a notebook before reciting it out loud.

"Efflugent...Splamolgent? No, no. Effulgent...Divulgent? No. Effulgent..."

Spike slammed the door closed and hurried along to the next one, kicking it open now in desperation. In this room Illyria and Wesley sat playing poker. The demon god wore a sun visor, a playing card stuck in the rim of it. A fat Cuban cigar was perched between her lips as she tapped her chin thoughtfully.

"Go Fishing" She demanded.

Wesley nodded and pulled a fishing rod out from under the table.

Spike growled and moved on. He felt his face morph into its vampire visage as he kicked the next door down. Anya sat in the corner of the room rocking back and forth. She looked so lost that it gave Spike pause for a moment and his features softened.

"Anya?" He said gently.

"Watch out, watch out" She nodded to herself "The axe-man, he likes axes he does. Sometimes he likes to sharpen them. Sometimes they sharpen him"

Spike frowned. He didn't think he could offer her any help and so closed the door quietly and moved to the last door in the corridor. Spike reached out and opened it slowly. It was Buffy's bedroom. It seemed to be empty. He stepped in cautiously.

Dawn had set in and the rays streaming through the window were a burnt orange. Spike sighed and sat on the edge of Buffy's bed. He didn't think he'd ever really been in her room back in Sunnydale. At least not for any length of time, and not for anything pleasant. Several stuff toys were strewn on the bed. He picked up a furry pig that held an axe. He placed it back down. Spike held his head in his hands. He was so tired of chasing after her.

The door slammed shut.

Spike's head jerked up and he leapt towards the door, pulling on the handle desperately. It wouldn't give no matter how hard he tried.

"What's the hubbub, bub?" Buffy asked.

He whirled around to face the bed. Buffy lay on top of it, she wore a black silk chemise, one leg folded up, her hair was longer and wild. A slim cigarette was resting between her fingers; she smiled at him lazily and brought it to her lips.

Spike started to move towards her when the door opened behind him, knocking him into the wall face-first. He growled and spun around.

Angel gave him a cheery wave and walked over to the bed. He was shirtless, dressed only in loose black drawstring cords. Spike watched as he settled on the bed next to Buffy. He attached one end of a pair of handcuffs to his own wrist.

"Hey, Spike" Angel whispered "Wanna know a secret?"

Buffy held her hand up. Angel snapped the other side of the handcuffs around her dainty wrist.

"What the hell –" Spike started forward, seething.

"Spike, honey," Buffy purred "its okay. You're still beneath me. Angel's on top"

He let out an almighty yell before leaping at the bed. He vamped out again, grabbed Angel around the neck and started pounding his face into so much meat. His fist fell hard, the loud, meaty thumps of his hits echoed through the room.

Spike blinked.

It was Buffy underneath him, her face caved into her skull.

----------

Spike bolted upright, screaming.